Bleed Like Me
by owlpostagain
Summary: Even seemingly perfect creatures have their demons. Loosely a song-fic to the song Bleed Like Me by Garbage. one-shot.


**I own many many things, including a pain in the ass, bright red, bedazzled laptop named Rosabella and a hot pink iTouch named Princess Zoe V. Unfortunately, Garbage owns the rights to Bleed Like Me (I just play it obsessively) and Stephanie Meyer owns the rights to the Cullens.**

(translation: not mine, I just like to play)****

_super super thank you to nashstheory for going above and beyond. she's a fantastic beta and really helped me out with this one!_

-----

Rosalie pinched the side of her hip, angling her body slightly towards the mirror. Her piercing topaz eyes scrutinized every inch of smooth, pale skin caressing the curve of her hip bone.

She knew she was beautiful. She was perfect, or as close as any human-like creature could possibly come. She heard it in Emmett's voice and saw it in the way men and women alike looked at her.

Her body hadn't changed in years. The hair on her head never grew an inch, the sun never kissed her skin bronze. She could gorge herself on as much animal blood as she wanted and never gain a single ounce, or starve herself dry without affect to her weight. To have only been so lucky as a human.

Her small hand slid over her naked skin, relishing the feel of each and every individual rib under her fingers, the sharp angles of joints and bones protruding from beneath her granite flesh. Her body was firmer, her beauty flawless now, but Carlisle's venom had only left her with the results of many human years of dedication and strictly avoiding temptation.

She'd worked _hard_ for her perfection.

_Hey baby, can you bleed like me?  
Come on baby, can you bleed like me?_

Edward surveyed the scene in front of him with the interest of a scientific observer, diligently scrutinizing his reactions to his unusual surroundings. A variety of different men pressed entirely too close to him from all sides, dancing, drinking, touching, leering.

The idea had come to him a few months ago, when Esme had casually commented to him that she'd met a lovely young man at a flower show and that he had instantly struck her as someone Edward would get along well with. She had guarded her thoughts carefully, but Edward understood her implications anyway.

He'd been startled at first, and more than a little horrified, but forced himself to remain rational, evaluating his options as calmly as possible. To have considered homosexuality during his human lifetime would have been blasphemous at the very least, but then again, Carlisle's father had been a vampire hunter. Who was he, as a dark creature of mythological lore, to pass judgment on other less-than-conservative lifestyles? Still, his acceptance of homosexuality was much different than his acceptance of himself possibly being homosexual.

So he would conduct tests. Now, hundreds of miles away in a sleazy dive bar, he did his best to ignore the overwhelming sense of frustration crashing over him. Though he could appreciate the attractive curve of a cheekbone here or well sculpted muscles there, the men in this room did no more or less for him than any woman ever had.

He fought back the despair aching to consume him, coursing through his veins faster even than venom. It was the same emptiness that had swallowed him whole when he first looked at Rosalie Hale, the most beautiful woman or vampire he'd ever seen, and felt nothing. It was the same hollow nothingness that followed the trail of Tania Denali's fingertips as she caressed his hand and shared a heartbreakingly perfect smile. He lived in a house full of soul mates, meant to spend eternity together, while he spent his eternity desperately grasping at the hope that one day _somebody_ would make him feel.

What kind of person didn't _feel_?

_Hey baby, can you bleed like me?  
Come on baby, can you bleed like me?_

Jasper sat at the rarely used kitchen counter, surveying the objects laid out precisely so in front of him. The knives had never been used before; there was no need for knives when you ate your meat while it was still attached to the animal.

His efforts had been futile, as he knew they had been. The razor blade lay twisted and contorted from his too-strong grip and most of the knives were worn down to such a dull blade that they would no longer cut through soft butter. The box saw, a desperate last attempt, had left several chipped teeth littering the surface of the countertop.

The sleeves of his sweater had been pushed up to his elbows, his bare forearms resting on the countertop. He studied the pale skin of his bare lower arms, eyes curving over the familiar bites and scars covering nearly every inch of the creamy white surface.

Jasper could never tell when the emotions were his own or someone else's. He was filled with frustration that had no cause, suddenly angry during moments of contentment, thirst when he had just finished hunting. His whole being was overwhelming filled with feelings, feelings that he could never claim with any certainty as his own.

He _ached_ with the desperate need to feel something _real_.

_Hey baby, can you bleed like me?  
Come on baby, can you bleed like me?_

Alice sat perfectly still.

Alice never, ever sat still; she liked the feel of her body moving, the shift in the air as she displaced it with her fingers or her hips. Besides, it was a necessary part of her façade, her desperate attempts to try and resemble something human. The waiting room was mercifully empty though, the sole receptionist sitting with her side towards Alice, totally engrossed in the paperback novel hidden under her desk.

Alice ran through her thoughts for the umpteenth time, trying to remind herself of why she was here. She had no memories of her human life or her time spent institutionalized, but her subconscious did not want her here, sitting in a therapist's office.

Still, she knew she needed to talk to someone trained to make sense of all her mindless madness. The whirl of thoughts raced through her head at a speed that left Edward dizzy, and she needed to stop them before she reached the level of desperation that drove Jasper to hack away at his own impenetrable skin.

She needed to _slow down._

_Hey baby, can you bleed like me?  
Come on baby, can you bleed like me?_

Emmett rested his elbows on the grimy bar, swiveling the delicate glass bottle between his fingers. The bottle was nearly half-empty, but only because the contents had been spilled on the floor when nobody was looking. No matter how desperately he wanted to he knew it was useless to try; no amount of beer would ever get him drunk again.

He nursed the amber bottle anyway, hoping to find comfort in the familiar actions, even though the alcohol didn't have the same effect it did before the bear attacked.

Before Rosalie; before he learned that there were much worse fates than death.

He clung desperately to this simple act of normalcy, fighting his demons in the only way he knew how. He couldn't rationalize like Carlisle, or soothe like Esme. He couldn't read Rosalie's thoughts like Edward could, or calmly reason with her like Jasper would. He couldn't watch her future like Alice could; he couldn't check to see if he would always be in it.

She wasn't happy. He knew she wasn't happy. She loved him, of that he was certain, but he knew with the same certainty that she would trade her eternity with him in a heartbeat in exchange for a second chance at life.

Rosalie was a woman raised in the 1920s, trained to desire nothing more than to be a beautiful, faithful wife and a loving mother, as much as any woman of her class should want. Her whole life had revolved around that one existence, that one beautiful image of perfection. Everything, every moment of fantasy and idealized reality, had been ripped from her in one horrifying display of humanity at its worst.

She deserved that chance; a husband, a family, the right to grow dignified and old and die surrounded by her many, many children and grandchildren. He knew she deserved that chance, knew better than anyone else. He knew that nothing in this world would make her happier, just as he knew that nothing could make him happier than she.

He wanted more than anything to be able to give her that life she so desired, to give her a beautiful home filled with beautiful dark haired, violet eyed children. He wanted to grow old with her, to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries and graduations that really _are_ only once in a lifetime. He wanted to wipe the flour off her face as she baked his favorite apple pie, to kiss her and taste the sweet filling. When the time came, he wanted to share his deathbed with her, inseparable in death as they were in life.

He knew such fantasies were about as realistic as him drinking the nearly-empty bottle of beer still dangling from his fingertips. He could only offer her so much; could only offer her an eternity with him, with their motley but loving family of vampires. He could only offer her the love he felt with every fiber of his being, and he could only hope that that would be enough.

He lamented his inability to offer her the only thing she'd ever wanted, and mourned the loss of his beautiful wife's pure happiness. But most of all, he _resented_ the fact that he would never be enough for her.

_Try to comprehend that which you'll never comprehend  
Just try to comprehend that which you'll never comprehend_

-----

Songfics generally make more sense if you are familiar with the song. But, since I'm a lazypants and I'm sure I'm not the only one, I usually don't check out the lyrics for the songs I don't know. So here you go:

Bleed Like Me by Garbage

_Avalanche is sullen and too thin__  
__She starves herself to rid herself of sin__  
__And the kick is so divine when she sees bones beneath her skin__  
__And she says:__  
__Hey baby can you bleed like me?__  
__C'mon baby can you bleed like me?___

_Chris is all dressed up and acting coy__  
__Painted like a brand new Christmas toy__  
__He's trying to figure out if he's a girl or he's a boy__  
__He says:__  
__Hey baby can you bleed like me?__  
__C'mon baby can you bleed like me?___

_Doodle takes dad's scissors to her skin__  
__And when she does relief comes setting in__  
__While she hides the scars she's making underneath her pretty clothes__  
__She sings:__  
__Hey baby can you bleed like me?__  
__C'mon baby can you bleed like me?___

_Therapy is Speedie's brand new drug__  
__Dancing with the devil's past has never been too fun__  
__It's better off than trying to take a bullet from a gun__  
__And she cries:__  
__Hey baby can you bleed like me?__  
__C'mon baby can you bleed like me?___

_JT gets all fucked up in some karaoke bar__  
__After two drinks he's a loser after three drinks he's a star__  
__Getting all nostalgic as he sings "I Will Survive"__  
__Hey baby can you bleed like me?__  
__C'mon baby can you bleed like me?__  
__Hey baby can you bleed like me?__  
__C'mon baby can you bleed like me?___

_You should see my scars__  
__You should see my scars__  
__You should see my scars__  
__You should see my scars__  
__Try to comprehend that which you'll never comprehend__  
__Try to comprehend that which you'll never comprehend__  
__Just try to comprehend that which you'll never comprehend__  
__Try to comprehend that which you'll never comprehend__  
__You should see my scars__  
__You should see my scars_

And because this song really is just that good:

.com/watch?v=690k85FQNXs

thanks lovies


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